


A Thousand Fallen Petals

by Wonwordful



Category: Original Work, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Diversity Writing Challenge, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonwordful/pseuds/Wonwordful
Summary: Eastern Han Dynasty, 166 A.D. She was a lovely concubine meant for the Chinese emperor. He was the son of a dead Roman emissary travelling along the Silk Road. An unlikely, dangerous romance blooms between the two different worlds. (Originally written for the Twilight Diversity Contest 2016, 1st Place Judges' Votes)
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 2





	1. Water 水

**Author's Note:**

> You can read the fanfic version on my fanfiction.net account under the same name.
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is not an accurate reflection of the time period. Mistakes and anachronisms may be present despite research. Artistic license has also been sprinkled liberally for entertainment purposes. Translations can be found in the chapter after the epilogue.
> 
> This was originally written for the Twilight Diversity Contest 2016. It won 1st Place Judges' Votes, 3rd Place Public Vote and was also the favourites of judges Capricorn75, Wonderwallthefirst, thimbles and validator Songster. It was voted in the Top 10 fics completed in April 2020 on TwiFanfictionRecs. I edited and extended it slightly after the competition. 
> 
> Thank you to these lovely ladies:  
> LX and HY for their help with Chinese language and history  
> EdwardsFirstKiss and dollarbanks who were amazing betas for the story  
> lazyncrazy and ggb-luma for pre-reading  
> IpsitaC77 who made a lovely banner for this story: www.pinterest.com/pin/486459197232648156/

** Glossary **

**Li Rong** (丽容) **:** lasting beauty, a feminine Chinese name

**Serica** ( _of silk_ ): China and the eastern regions, as known to the Romans

**Seres** ( _the people of the land of silk)_ : The people of Serica, as known to the Romans

**Da Qin** (大秦, _the Great Qin_ ): The Roman Empire, as known to the Chinese

**Rinan** : present-day Vietnam, previously under Chinese rule

**Concubine** : A woman who lives with a man but has a lower status than his wife. The higher the status of the man, the more concubines he is likely to have. In ancient China, the emperor can have thousands, and they are ranked according to his favour and whether or not they bear sons.

**Eunuch** : A castrated man employed to guard the living quarters of women in the imperial court

**166 A.D**.: The year when the first recorded emissary from Rome arrived in China

* * *

_Callista._

She hadn't known what it meant, initially.

The name had been a gift, the pretty sound tumbling from his lips like a waterfall. His Chinese had been simple, broken, and the musical language he'd spoken was a mystery. Even now she didn't know where it was from.

She stared at the cold steel above her, closing her eyes. So many times, he'd drawn a map on the wet earth, trying to teach her, to help her understand his origins.

_Sea, far, very far,_ he'd finally managed to say, after several weeks of painstaking exchanges with the local traders. When understanding lit her eyes, he'd smiled brightly, his lips forming a euphony of syllables, only three of which she'd understood.

_Callista._

By a funny twist of fate, it had the same meaning as her original name: Callista. Li Rong. Beautiful. It was what everyone had said when they saw her as a child. _Na me mei!_ They'd exclaimed, their eyes bright. _How beautiful_ _she is!_

The goddess of beauty had moulded Li Rong with her golden fingers, people sighed. As she'd grown, tales of her loveliness had spread, and artists flocked to paint her classically beautiful features: wide doe-eyes, clear skin and a tiny mouth. The local poets penned extravagant praises for her. _She puts the flowers to shame. She entices the birds to fall, and the fish to sink—so exquisite is she._

Among thousands and thousands of girls who'd gone to Luoyang for the selection, she'd been plucked out of the crowd like a ripe fruit. She'd passed the inspection easily—the endless arbitrary requirements. Slender. A straight nose bridge. Sloping shoulders. Long narrow eyebrows. Lustrous hair. No birthmarks or scars. Check, check, check.

All of it had been for nothing.

Her tightly bound hands closed into fists as she bore the pain. Her kneecaps and ankles ached fiercely from kneeling. Rope bit into already tender skin, cutting off most of her breathing as it looped over her shoulders and tied off at her back. The palace guards knew how to mete out pain with frightening accuracy.

_Callista_ , he'd whispered.

It was her beauty that was going to kill her, after all. It was her beauty that had driven her mother to take her own life in a plea for hers. It was her beauty that would've killed him, had she not forced him to leave.

She'd been foolish.

So, so foolish.

Of course the eunuchs had been spying on her. There were eyes everywhere within the palace walls. Concubines belonged to the emperor. It didn't matter that he had four thousand of them. It didn't matter that he barely remembered her face, let alone her name. It didn't matter that her mother had done nothing wrong.

All that mattered was that she, a common girl from a modest village, had been chosen as one of the emperor's esteemed concubines—a privileged position many would die for—and she'd thrown it away for a man with whom she had no future. A man she'd never see again.

She'd disgraced herself, she'd disgraced her family, and worst of all, she'd disgraced the emperor himself—the Son of Heaven. She'd soiled his reputation, trampled on it as though it were mud.

And for that, she had to pay with her life.

_Sea, far, very far_.

She hoped it was where he was now, far away from the emperor's wrath. As she heard the command ordering her end, she bowed her head, the vivid blue waters swimming crystal clear before her eyes.

* * *

**_Three months earlier_ **

" _Currite!"_ Markus roared, lashing his steed.

The horses brayed, hooves thundering as their small company fled from the Rinan bandits. They ran for their lives, but the gifts they carried—rhinoceros horns, ivory and tortoise shell acquired during their trade along the Silk Road— slowed them down.

One of the bandits clambered onto their carriage and brandished his curved blade, clearly intending to cut it free from the horses and pillage its contents.

Markus unsheathed his sword but Alerio had already released his arrow. It caught the man in the shoulder and he cried out in pain before losing his balance, bouncing and rolling several times along the hard gravel.

" _Vadete celerius!_ " Markus yelled, urging the men to go faster.

The rush was mad. Overworked horses were whipped, more arrows were fired, all this under the relentless glare of the sun. By the time they were safely across the border, Alerio's shirt was soaked from the exertion, his heart pounding in his ears.

Despite the bandits, spirits were high. They had reached Serica and were finally nearing their destination, the capital _Luoyang_. Their most skilled navigator had estimated an optimistic two months.

The journey had been gruelling. They'd travelled for so many years that Alerio had grown from a boy to a man along the way. His father, the original emissary, had died of an illness while they were still at sea. Markus had taken over.

The older man flashed him an approving grin as they slowed, passing him a flask of water with his coarse, vein-rough hands. He'd been a fine surrogate father to Alerio, caring for the boy and teaching him the way around weapons.

Alerio wasn't large, coming up just to Markus' ear. Although agile, his growth had been stunted by the lack of food during their travels. As a result, he'd come to favour the bow and arrow over the sword; accuracy and speed over strength. A deadly archer, he could hit targets accurately from astonishing distances and had saved many of their men that way.

"Aquam indigemus," Markus murmured, as they passed through a mid-sized Serican settlement. _We need water_.

It was Alerio's turn to ask. He slid down from his horse, glad to be on his feet again. His muscles were sore from the endless riding.

The village was teeming with people bustling about their daily life.

Farmers ploughed the fields, toiling despite the heat, and he heard loud clanking from the blacksmiths. Smoke escaped from the chimney of a large stone structure sitting on a raised platform.

He took it in with wonder. As they'd sailed, they'd seen the Kushans and the Parthians during the refuelling along the coast. They'd seen the Rinans, and passed many villages and towns, but he'd never seen such a sophisticated structure. Such a thing didn't exist in Rome, he mused, as he watched the blacksmith scoop molten metal from the large pit, pour it into a mould and begin to hammer.

If they had blacksmiths, they had water. But where? And how could he ask? The further they'd travelled, the more widely the language began to deviate from Latin. 'Nước' had been the Rinan word for water, but what was the word for it here?

"Nước?" he tried asking a passerby, but only received a puzzled look. "Aqua?" he tried again, this time in Latin. The man scratched his head and walked away after giving him a strange look.

Alerio wandered along the marketplace, searching for someone to ask.

People were busy with their labour, spinning, farming, hammering, hardly taking any notice of him.

That was when he saw her—a girl with a bucket of water. Water!

He approached her cautiously. Here, men and women seemed to mingle freely but he'd experienced enough to be wary.

"Me excusa," he said tentatively. "Me excusa, domina..."

She stopped, and his heart nearly stopped as well.

Even barefaced and in simple clothes, the peasant girl was arresting. Her features were exquisitely feminine, beautiful, seeming to belong in a painting or on a doll. That she was living and breathing before him was a shock.

He blinked at her dumbly and she tilted her head, confused by his behaviour.

The movement made him catch himself, made him realise that he was acting like a fool seeing the sky for the first time. He cleared his throat, regaining his bearings. Water. He needed water.

"Aqua." He gestured at her filled bucket. "Ubi?"

She squinted at him.

"Ni yao shen me a?" she asked.

"Aqua," he repeated. Exaggeratedly, he mimed slurping water from his hands.

The look of disgust flitting over her features was a clear sign that she'd misunderstood.

"Non, non," he said hastily, realising that his gesture could be seen as lewd, but a beefy blacksmith had stepped in front of her, glaring at Alerio.

_Faex_.

He took a step back, raising his hands in surrender.

"Aqua," he repeated. _Mehercle!_ He just wanted water! He pointed at the bucket and mimed drinking again—this time from a cup.

Understanding lit up in the girl's eyes, but the blacksmith was already yelling at him, saying something he couldn't understand. Within seconds, more men had gathered around him, distrust and antagonism in their eyes.

This was bad. This was very bad. Where was Markus?

Alerio looked around but realised he'd wandered too far into the village centre, out of sight of the others.

There was more yelling, and he could see that the crowd around him was getting angrier and angrier. The girl tried to say something, but no one was paying attention to her.

Faex, faex _, faex!_

Alerio cursed to himself, wanting to leave but unable to do so with so many people surrounding him. Out of nowhere, someone's fist shot out, catching him hard in the jaw. The blacksmith. He hurled another punch and Alerio threw his hands before his face, not daring to fight back for fear of escalation.

As he backed away, he slammed into a man in the crowd, unintentionally elbowing him in the nose. It was the only spark they needed. There was a cry of rage and then blows began to rain down on him from all directions. He fell to the ground, stars exploding before his eyes, tasting blood in his mouth.

On the other side of the commotion, Li Rong watched with dismay.

"Bie da le!" she shouted, grabbing onto blacksmith Wen. " _Bie da le!" Stop fighting!_

But no one was listening to her.

Determined to stop them, she grabbed her bucket of cold water, throwing it over the furious men. It surprised them enough that they paused.

She seized the chance to speak. _Stop hitting him! It was a misunderstanding. He was asking for water!_

Blacksmith Wen glared at her. _Don't be foolish! These outsiders are all the same. All they do is steal and pester our women! Just look at the Rinan thieves. We gave them our hospitality and they plunder our livestock!_

_He doesn't look like he's from Rinan,_ she argued back. _And thieves don't steal in broad daylight._

There were murmurs as people weren't sure whether or not to believe her. The argument was interrupted by the clacking of wood against stone.

_Now, now, what's going on here?_

It was old lady Xiu. The crowd parted, giving way to the village elder as she hobbled towards them with her stick. Her shrewd eyes took in the battered traveller. _What are you doing?_

_He was harassing Li Rong!_ The blacksmith said heatedly.

_He wasn't,_ Li Rong countered. _It was a misunderstanding. He wanted water._

Old lady Xiu shook her head. _Listen to the girl. Do you know that his companions are outside?_

Blacksmith Wen seemed unhappy, but no one dared to argue with old lady Xiu.

There were murmured apologies. Someone helped the traveller up, another gave him a damp cloth. Someone else passed him some medicine. The crowd dispersed, the disorder dissolving as quickly as it had come.

Old lady Xiu gave Li Rong a nudge with her stick. _You're too beautiful for your own good. I keep telling your mother to send you for the selection, but she's stubborn as a mule._ She eyed the traveller, who seemed confused by the crowd's sudden change in attitude. _Be careful when you show him where the water is. His lot has many weapons._ Li Rong nodded her head respectfully to the elder as she limped towards Li Rong's home, no doubt to nag Li Rong's mother about the selection again.

The traveller's eye was swelling, his lip split. He seemed wary of speaking to her. Despite having done nothing wrong, Li Rong felt a twinge of guilt. Cautiously, she reached for the damp cloth and medicine in his hands, taking them and gesturing for him to follow her.

Alerio was anxious about following the girl. His ribs ached from where they'd kicked him, and he was sore everywhere else. But she tapped her bucket, clearly indicating that she was going to show him where the water was. He glanced around and saw that people had returned to their work, having lost interest in the spectacle.

He'd come this far, he might as well find out where the water was.

Guardedly, he followed her down a winding path to a well. Without him having to ask, she lowered the bucket into the well before hoisting it up with the handle, showing him how the mechanism worked.

Then she dipped her fingers into the water.

"Shui," she said.

"Excusa?"

"Shui," she repeated patiently, dipping her fingers into the water again. He couldn't help himself from noticing how beautiful her hands were—long, elegant fingers and a delicate wrist.

"Shui," he echoed. The Serican word for water.

But she shook her head. "Shuuiii," she made a downwards and then an upwards motion with her finger, baffling him.

"Shui," he repeated, unable to tell the difference, and she only smiled, an enthralling smile. He expected her to leave, but she stayed with what was unmistakeably guilt in her eyes.

She emptied the bucket and turned it upside down, gesturing for him to sit as she took out the cloth and ointment from her pocket.

Alerio remained standing, not wanting a repetition of the market incident, but the girl was insistent. With a forwardness and strength that surprised him, she took him by the shoulders, pushing him down to sit. Then without asking for permission, she dabbed the medicine over his eyelid and the cuts on his face.

Bemused, he managed to thank her. "Gracias tibi ago."

She paused, obviously unsure of what he'd just said. He shook his head to indicate it wasn't important, rising, and she gave him the ointment and strips of cloth, gesturing at his shirt.

She was asking him to apply it to the rest of his body. She seemed as though she wanted to say more but someone was yelling.

"Li Rong!"

She turned, calling out something he couldn't understand and then looked back at him. Eyes earnest, she pressed the bucket into his hands and without another word, she disappeared into the market crowd.

_Li Rong._

Was that her name? A term of address? A request?

He had no way of knowing.

He looked down at the empty bucket in his hands, the girl's lovely countenance still burning brightly in his mind.


	2. Wood 木

Alerio sat beside Markus, warming his hands on a flask of warm _mulsum_. It tasted strange, because they'd obtained the wine from the village market and the wine was not Roman wine. They'd mixed it with honey from the last precious jar they'd carried from Rome.

He took a sip of the _mulsum_ , pulling his furs closer, when he thought he saw the girl's hauntingly beautiful face looming at him from within the liquid. He remembered her fingers, soft, and touching his cuts so lightly, and his body tightened. By the gods, was he going mad? It wasn't simple desire—Alerio had desired plenty of women along his journey and had even quenched his desire in exchange for coin. But this was something more.

_Li Rong._

Perhaps that was her name. Perhaps he could find her. It was a dangerous thought, and his ribs still ached from where the villagers had kicked him, but he couldn't let this go—not until he could see her. Just one more time. He would be careful. He exhaled, watching his breath as it misted in the light of the fire they were gathered around. The camp they'd set up was a little distance away from the village and Markus had made sure that the peasants saw their weapons.

 _In case they think to rob us,_ his adoptive father had said darkly.

 _I'd rather rob them_ , Mikaelus had said, unsheathing his _pugio_ and spinning the small blade from one hand to another. _Peasants_ _are easy to subdue. And we would not have to trade. We can just take._

Alerio had kept his silence, allowing Markus to chastise Mikaelus. And that the old man did. _We're not pillagers, Mikaelus_ , he said sternly. _We are emissaries. If word reaches the emperor that we have stolen from their people, our cause would be lost. We could even lose our heads._

Mikaelus hadn't dared speak back to their superior, but when Markus turned his back, he'd muttered his complaints to Alerio. _What does a few dead peasants matter? We're never allowed any fun because Markus is too proper._

Alerio had stared at him. They were roughly the same age, raised on the same ship by the same man, but Alerio often thought his friend would do much better in the army. Mikaelus had a bloodthirst that was unsuitable for the position of an emissary. _I don't enjoy killing_ , he'd replied, and Mikaelus had rolled his eyes at him. _You're boring, Alerio. Straight as a javelin._

Before Alerio could answer, Markus had returned, holding the bucket that had been given to him by the girl. _What did you trade for this?_ He'd asked, ever meticulous.

 _Nothing, it was given to me,_ Alerio said. Unconsciously, his hand reached to brush the part of his cheek where the girl had touched him and Markus's eyes followed the movement.

 _What happened to your face?_ He'd asked.

Alerio waved away his concern. _A small scuffle._

 _Did you steal from them?_ Mikaelus sneered but Alerio didn't rise to the bait.

_No. It was a misunderstanding. Like I said, a small scuffle. It matters not._

Markus frowned at Alerio's bruises but he let the matter drop. _Did you learn anything interesting?_

Alerio had learned plenty of things. He drew a rough outline of the village on the soil, marking the well with an X. _We can find water here. And they don't speak anything like Latin. It's just like in Rinan—we'll have to learn from the traders._

Markus grunted and Alerio knew he was weary. He didn't share Cato's passion for learning or for strange-sounding tongues. When they'd set sail, Alerio had been young enough that his home became the ships that they boarded, the horses that they rode and the campfire around which they slept. But Markus's only home was Rome. If it hadn't been for his wife's unfortunate death, he'd never have sailed.

 _Tell me the rest tomorrow. We'd better be sleeping now_ , his surrogate father said.

Alerio settled down, lying back but soon found that he was unable to do as Markus said. It was the girl. As he brushed the thought of her aside yet again, the way he had dozens of times in the past few hours, he was sure that he was going mad. Mad with what, he was afraid to say aloud. As her beautiful face returned once more to nestle in a soft-edged corner of his mind, his heart raced, his stomach brimming with butteflies

"Amor a primo conspectu?" he asked the starry skies softly. _Love at first sight_. Was it love, what he was feeling?

He'd never believe in it before, but it seemed as though the gods conspired to prove him wrong. He gazed at the moon, reaching for the single memorabilia of home he carried.

He fingered the delicate, finely-spun gloves that his mother had given him before he'd left, seven years ago. They glowed dimly in the moonlight.

 _It was her beauty_ , he decided, as he turned over on his animal-skin rug. _Her beauty was bewitching._ He finally fell asleep, his dreams filled with captivating eyes and bell-like laughter.

* * *

It was early dawn, barely five, and the birds had just begun their chirping. But Li Rong was already up. She donned her Hanfu, tying the sash around her waist.

Her mother was in a dark mood as she stirred the porridge, not speaking, and Li Rong knew why.

Old lady Xiu's visit yesterday.

To Li Rong's mother, the elder was nosy and relentless. She'd been trying in all manner of ways to convince her mother to send her to _Luoyang_ , the capital, for the concubine selection.

Li Rong hadn't been home during her visit, but she knew exactly what old lady Xiu would've said, because she'd been saying the same thing every year since Li Rong had turned fourteen.

 _It would give her a better future_. _She would live a pampered life in the palace and all the better if she catches the eye of the emperor_.

_What a waste of her beauty – rotting away in this poor village, working on farms and whatnot!_

_If her father were still alive, he would've sent her. Can you even afford to marry her off? You hardly have any money for her dowry. You really should've considered remarrying. I heard farmer Zhang is looking for a second wife..._

Her mother slammed the bowls onto the table.

Li Rong guessed that old lady Xiu must've pressured her all the more this year, because Li Rong's sixteenth birthday was next week. Once she turned seventeen, she would no longer be an eligible candidate.

Her mother picked up her chopsticks, and then scowled at Li Rong's yet untouched bowl. "Ni bu xiang chi ya?" she snapped.

Li Rong hastily reached for her own chopsticks.

Old lady Xiu meant well. She truly thought she was helping Li Rong and her mother. For the last sixteen years since her father had died, Li Rong's mother spun silk fabric day and night, ploughing on their little farm and tirelessly working to put food on the table. No man wanted to care for a child that wasn't his own—especially not a girl child—and so her mother had been unable to remarry.

Li Rong quietly ate the watered-down porridge, watching the tired lines on her mother's face, and the weathered skin of her hands.

Perhaps old lady Xiu did have a point. Perhaps she'd lessen the burden on her mother if she went to the capital.

"Ye xu wo ke yi..." she began, but her mother rose suddenly, and Li Rong stopped speaking.

Her mother's eyes were filled with pain, sorrow and indecision. She pushed her half-eaten bowl towards her daughter."Chi," she said, ordering her to eat. She placed the plate of pickled vegetables nearer to Li Rong and left the house, making her way to the back to spin more silk.

Li Rong's eyes became glassy as she looked at the amount of porridge her mother had left for her. Despite her mother's short temper and harsh words, her love was unquestionable. Working herself half to death was one of her ways of showing it. Food was another. How many women would bother with a female infant after its father's death? Even with living husbands, she knew enough mothers who'd smothered their own daughters, not wanting another mouth to feed.

She finished her food quietly and rose to fetch water from the well.

Perhaps her mother was worrying too much.

The chances of her being chosen as a concubine were slim, with thousands and thousands of girls competing for the position. It was odd, how sure her mother and old lady Xiu seemed to be of her winning a spot.

She opened the door, feeling the cool breeze against her face as she reached the well. That was when she heard footsteps echoed behind her.

"Salve," she heard a familiar voice greet.

It was the traveller from yesterday. He still had her bucket and she stepped back, letting him draw water first—a common courtesy towards guests. He smiled at her unexpectedly, a small smile that touched his eyes.

In the early rays of the morning, she saw his eyes properly for the first time. Jade-green and brilliant, they shone like jewels in his face. She'd seen lighter shades of brown before, and once even blue on a northern Chinese boy, but green was a new colour.

She realised she was staring at him and lowered her lashes bashfully.

There was a creak as he twisted the handle, drawing water. Then a pair of boots stopped before her.

Li Rong looked up in surprise.

He was there, the bucket of water in his hands. He lifted it up, and looked at her, jerking his head towards the pathway. "Xie xie," he thanked her, his words heavily-accented and almost incomprehensible. But she understood, and the attempt made her smile.

"Bu yong xie," she replied.

She began to move towards the well, but he lifted the bucket up again and gestured at the pathway. He pointed at the bucket he was holding, and then at her.

"Ni de," he said, and this time she understood. _Yours_. He wanted to help her carry the water.

She shook her head, reaching for the bucket but he shook his head too, insistent on helping her.

"Xie xie," he repeated, using the only other word he seemed to know. _Thank you._ He wanted to repay her for yesterday.

Li Rong bit her lip. Being seen with an outsider—a man no less—would do little for her reputation. But he looked so earnest and she didn't know how to say no without seeming rude. Besides, it was early and only a few weary men and women were up and about. Against her better judgement, she nodded.

His eyes lit up and she couldn't help but stare into them—noticing the exotic hues of green and gold in their depths before her gaze was drawn to the bronze of his hair, the way it glinted red in the morning sun.

The colourful man fell into step beside her, wordless, the bucket swinging gently in one hand. A bow and some arrows were strapped to his back. Was he a warrior?

No, he couldn't be. Warriors were brutal. They didn't come to villages like hers asking for water—they killed, pillaged and raped.

There were a million questions she wanted to ask him—if only she could.

He didn't seem to mind her staring. In fact, he was doing the same. She turned as red as his hair and was glad they'd reached their destination. She took the bucket from him, bowing slightly to show her gratitude.

* * *

Alerio couldn't believe it. It was as if _Fortuna_ herself were showing him the way. He'd wandered to the well, thinking of her, thinking of her, and thinking of her when the goddess of fate seemed to have raised a hand and declared _here she is._

Alerio couldn't help himself from staring.

The peasant girl's hair was loose. Like in Rome, peasant women here seemed much less restricted by propriety than the nobles. Alerio was transfixed by the way her loose hair gleamed like black silk, its colour rich, its texture lustrous. It was though he were seeing the _Seres_ for the first time all over again. When she'd turned, he'd found himself stunned once more, somehow managing to convince her to let him follow by mumbling the meagre words he'd learned in the market.

Now, Alerio paused unsurely at her doorway. Markus had declared they were resting for a day to restock, complete a map of this unchartered area, and learn the local customs before making their way to the capital. He'd been assigned to observe the latter.

And what better way to learn than from one of the villagers themselves?

Alerio scratched his head, unsure how to ask if she needed help. She seemed to have already forgotten about him as she carried the water towards a stone basin, and began scrubbing some plates.

Hesitantly, he picked up a plate and dipped it into the water.

She froze, astonishment in her eyes, and this time, Alerio knew why. Even in Rome, domestic chores were left to the women or slaves. Doing such tasks was considered effeminate and Alerio began to feel foolish. The girl laughed suddenly, bright laughter that accentuated her already stunning beauty. It was bell-like, and goosebumps rose on Alerio' skin as he realised it sounded exactly like her laughter in his dreams.

His embarrassment quickly forgotten, Alerio thought he would wash a thousand more plates if he could just sit beside her and listen to her laugh.

Li Rong didn't know why he wanted to help, but he was determined. She took the plate away, sparing the poor man the shame of doing a woman's task, and led him to the farm instead, showing him how to use the cast-iron plough. He brightened considerably.

She wanted to ask him if he didn't have better things to do. She wanted to ask him if men in his lands shared the chores of women. She wanted to ask him so much but he would understand none of her speech, so she simply allowed him to help, wary at first. But the strange young man was a hard worker and his intentions seemed pure, and after a few hours, Li Rong relaxed. With his help, the work was done twice as fast, leaving them with a free evening.

Li Rong sat on the side of the field, glancing at him. What was his name?

As though reading her mind, he put a hand to his chest. "Alerio," he said.

She didn't catch it. "Shen me?"

"Alerio," he repeated, his language strange, his tongue forming sounds her own could not.

“Al-le-li-you,” she struggled.

“Alerrrrio,” he emphasised, making that peculiar sound again.

“A-lerl-li-you,” she repeated helplessly, and he laughed, saying something she couldn’t understand. His amusement was clear.

She gave his shoulder a playful push, and pointed at herself. “Li Rong.”

It was his turn to stumble.

“Li Rrrrong,” he tried, and she shook her head vigorously.

“Li,” she gestured downwards, showing the sinking tone of the first word. “Rong.” She gestured upwards, showing the rising tone of the second word. She emphasized the lightness of the ‘r’ in her language, so unlike the one in his.

“Li Rrrong,” he butchered her name again.

She mimed banging her head against the tree trunk and he laughed. He patted her arm. “Callista,” he said. It was a name in his homeland with roots in splendour, a name befitting her.

She didn’t catch his meaning.

“Rong,” she said patiently, pointing at her lips. He watched the way her tongue curved at the back of her mouth.

“Rrleng,” he failed so miserably that she couldn’t help her laughter. She clutched her sides, tears in her eyes. When she caught her breath enough to look at him, he was standing with his arms crossed, smiling good-humouredly, but clearly in no mood to try again.

“Alerrrio,” he motioned instead at his mouth, showing how the tip of his own tongue vibrated behind his teeth.

She just shook her head unwillingly and they both laughed.

“Callista,” he repeated, motioning at her. “Pulchra es. _Callista_.”

She shrugged.

“Cal-lis-ta,” he said slowly, gesturing at her. He touched his face and gestured at hers. “ _Hao_.” He said the Serican word for good.

Li Rong thought she understood. Like so many others, he was trying to tell her she was beautiful.

"Callista?" she asked.

"Callista," he agreed.

"Mei li," she tried to teach him the correct word. "Callista—mei li."

"Mei li," he repeated. The tones were wrong, but it was close enough. She nodded, staring into his mesmerising eyes.

The vivid green was striking.

"Mei li," she said, and boldly, she reached to touch his eyelid.

Alerio saw that it meant nothing to her—a gesture of friendship, perhaps, but she was so lovely, and he hungered for female company—something he'd sorely lacked during his long years at sea. There had been the occasional woman who'd been willing to bed him for coin, but Alerio found little satisfaction with them.

Without thinking, he rested an arm around her waist, pulling her slender body close to his. Surprise flitted across her eyes and he realised his mistake.

"Ignosce mihi," he apologised, releasing her immediately. Hot embarrassment flooded through him. His father had been a man of high rank, and here he was, acting like a brute to a peasant girl.

To his surprise, she only laughed, breaking the tension easily, and seemed distracted by something in the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, sending bursts of reds and oranges across the sky.

She walked towards her home, and when she reemerged, she had a bowl of steaming rice and some vegetables. She gave it to him together with two thin sticks of equal length— _kuai zi._ Alerio had seen people in the market eat with them, but he'd been unable to. He realised that she had no bowl for herself.

He offered to share but she shook her head, smiling.

He frowned. She had to be hungry after the work they'd done. He took her by the hand and led her towards the trees, at the edges of the forest. When he reached for his bow and arrows, fear flashed in her eyes.

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, pointing at several birds in the red evening sky. Then he docked his smallest arrow, took aim and released it. It cut through the air, swift and deadly. The bird fell out of the sky, and they made a fine meal of it.

She seemed mystified by his inability to use the _kuai zi_ and tried several times to teach him. But the sticks rebelled, criss-crossing over his fingers as though they were mocking him. When he reached for the rice with his fingers, she swatted his hand away.

She disappeared once again into the house, bringing out a wide, oddly-shaped spoon which had a short, thick handle that bottomed into a deep, flat head. A soup spoon? At that point, he'd use anything but the miserable sticks and decided to take what he could get.

"Callista," he said, leaning against her door, after their emptied bowls had been washed. Li Rong suddenly realised it was a name. A name he'd given her because he couldn't pronounce hers! She felt her lips curling upwards in amusement.

She could give him a name too. "Wei," she said teasingly.

"Wei?" he questioned.

"Wei," she decided, patting his shoulder. The name meant strength and she thought it apt for his skills with the arrow.

"Alerio—Wei?" He seemed overly-pleased with the name.

She laughed. "Shi de." _Yes_.

"Ita," he told her. "Ita—shi de."

"Ita," she repeated, and he nodded. _Yes_.

The conversation was tapering off. He had no more reason to stay, but neither of them seemed willing to move. She stood unsurely at the door.

"Callista," he said softly.

Her heart beat with both nervousness and anticipation. They'd been toeing the line between propriety and cordiality all day.

He was just a passing traveller. She had her mother to worry about. She had the selection in Luoyang to worry about. She had food to worry about.

He was sweet, but she had no future with him.

She started to close the door when he reached out unexpectedly, taking her hand in his warm one.

Alerio's heart hammered, but he'd gone through his decision several times over the last few hours. Yesterday, her beauty had captured his eyes, and today her soul had captured his heart. He didn't know if it was right, but he'd never felt that way about a woman before. He was going to trust his heart and give it a chance.

"Omnium rerum principia parva sunt," he murmured, repeating what Cato had once told him as a boy and then he reached for the delicate material in his pocket.

His mother's gloves were made of sea-silk, and were extremely rare and valuable. In the past, chlamys, the cloaks spun from this very same material were allowed to be worn only by the emperor and high-ranking officials. The silky filaments, byssus, were released by pen shells. These gloves had been treated with lemon juice and shone gold—a shine that had yet to fade in the long years he'd been at sea and on foot.

"Me exspecta, quaeso," he murmured, pressing the sea-silk gloves into her hands. _Please wait for me._

He touched her cheek. _I will come back for you_.

Of course she didn't understand him, but she was a young girl from a small village. The odds of her still being there when he returned were high.

With that, he leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek, and left.


	3. Fire 火

Li Rong ran her fingers over the soft material of the gloves, watching the way it glittered in the sun. She'd taken it out several times in the last few hours.

He'd kissed her.

Heat crept up her face. No one had kissed her since she was a child, and yesterday she'd been too astounded to react. She brushed her fingers across the fabric once more. Her mother spun silk, and Li Rong often helped her—she could tell that this textile was rare and valuable. Light but very warm, gold, scintillating. Selling it would no doubt be enough to feed both her mother and her for a year.

This morning, she'd searched for him to return the gift but the travellers had already left.

Why had he given them to her?

The last time she'd held something so valuable in her hands was before her father died. He'd been a favoured soldier of a disgraced marquis. Her mother had been his third concubine, hated by his wife for her beauty and her skill with the _guzheng._ An instrument Li Rong herself could play—not that she would ever touch it again.

Her father had been beheaded alongside the marquis. Their former household had been met with the same fate. Only she and her mother had survived and it was by pure chance.

_Sai weng shi ma._

The cruelty of the marquis' wife had been a blessing in disguise. It had driven her mother to flee the capital and had saved their lives. No one in the village knew of her family's former wealth. In the villagers' eyes, they were simply one of many poor, widowed families.

Still deep in thought, Li Rong finished up her work for the day. She wiped her hands and opened the front door to find her mother seated at the dining table with a hard, stony expression. The heavy scent of alcoholic _huangjiu_ was thick in the air.

Before she could so much as ask what was wrong, her mother had spoken—her tone low and venomous, spitting out the words as though they left a bad taste in her mouth.

_You fucked an outsider, didn't you?_

Li Rong backed away, shocked. _No._

_Don't lie to me!_ Her mother was beside herself with rage. The last time Li Rong had seen her so angry was when Li Rong nearly ruined their year's worth of harvest by sheer carelessness.

_I didn't!_

Her mother shook her, her eyes filled with dismay. _Is that what you want to become? A whore?_ She cried. _After everything I've done for you!_

Li Rong stared at her in disbelief. _I_ didn't _!_ She said, with all the outrage she could muster.

Her mother gazed into her eyes, and Li Rong could see that she had been understood. But instead of calming down, her mother put her face in her hands, slumping down to the ground.

_Old lady Xiu is telling everyone that she heard you fucking in the barn_.

Li Rong gaped. The elder was well-respected in their community. Her word was not taken lightly. _Why? I swear I didn't—_

_The rumours are spreading. Nobody will marry you now._ Tears leaked from her mother's eyes, through her fingers. _That damn woman. She did this on purpose so that I will have no choice but to send you to the capital._

For a long moment, Li Rong could only stare, speechless, as her mother shook with silent tears. And then she pulled herself together.

_I could stay,_ Li Rong said, putting an arm around her mother's shoulders. _I don't need to marry anyone. I could work on the farm._

Her mother looked up at her. _This is no life for a woman. My body aches, my fingers bleed. What will you do when I am gone? Nobody will want to associate with you after what old lady Xiu said._

Her mother rose, the sorrow already wiped clean from her face. _The money for your dowry—I have enough of it to send you to the capital. You will leave in two days._ Then she looked up at her daughter, her gaze severe. _You're telling me the truth, aren't you? If you slept with him, admit it now. The imperial palace will examine you. They will find out._

_I didn't._ Li Rong repeated, her jaw tightening, hating old lady Xiu.

* * *

Everything after was a blur.

Leaving. The selection. The palace. Li Rong felt as though she'd aged ten years in the span of a few months. She thought about her last few moments home as she knelt on the cold platform. The wintry breeze caught the loose strands of her once-beautiful hair, now streaked with filth.

She had so many regrets.

* * *

Blacksmith Wen had caught her just as the wagon was leaving the village.

_Li Rong_ , he said, concerned. _You don't have to go_. _Stay, and I'll make you my wife. I never did trust that old lady._

Li Rong shook her head.

_Thank you,_ she'd said. _But I'll take my chances. My mother grows old and she needs money. Once I'm in the capital, I will send some back for her._

_I will support your mother_ , Blacksmith Wen said, his hold tightening around her arm. _You don't have to pay my family any dowry._

It was a very generous offer, but she knew that he couldn't comfortably support Li Rong, her mother, and his own parents as well. She didn't want to burden him like that.

_That's very kind of you, but I cannot accept_.

_Li Rong, I'm serious._ His eyes were sincere. _I've always cared about you. We will manage._

She gazed back at him, wavering. But then she remembered what her mother said about nobody wanting to associate with her. If she married him, would his patrons still come? What if her reputation ruined his trade?

Li Rong turned away, her chest aching. _I cannot accept._

Sorrow coloured his features. _Is there nothing I can do?_

_Girl, are you coming or not?_ The wagon driver interrupted them. _We don't have all day. We best reach the nearest city before nightfall._

_Please take care of my mother_ , Li Rong told the blacksmith.

He sighed, before nodding. Then right before she climbed back onto the wagon, he gave her a tight hug. _Take care of yourself._

* * *

It was the last time she'd seen blacksmith Wen, her mother or anyone else in her village.

Li Rong stared at the wood beneath her. It was old, covered with bloodstains of the condemned and splotched with melted tears from the bleak sky. Commoners and ministers alike crowded around the podium, their lips forming words she didn't hear—didn't care to hear. Everything had grown meaningless in the last few days. The mother she'd stayed for was dead, the man she loved gone, her own life coming to an abrupt close.

The air must've been freezing, but she was too numb to feel the cold. More memories flooded her mind—more regrets.

* * *

She'd fallen asleep amidst the rice sacks at the back of the wagon when someone had murdered the driver. It was dark, and they hadn't seen her as she'd run, terrified.

A clap of thunder, a torrent of rain, and she'd shivered under the weight of it all, frightened, wanting badly to cry but knowing that it wouldn't do any good.

_Chi de ku zhong ku, fang wei ren shang ren_.

The words she'd always heard whenever adversity would strike. _Only by withstanding the hardest of hardships can you learn to soar._ She had to care for her mother, who had painstakingly raised her. She wasn't a son; she couldn't be a breadwinner or continue the family name but she could at least do this.

She let go of her fear, squaring her shoulders to continue onwards. Giving up wasn't a choice. If she had to, she would walk to the capital.

_Where is Luoyang_?

She'd asked, and people had pointed.

_How can I get to Luoyang?_

Someone finally told her that a procession of men was also moving in the same direction. By this time, she'd walked for so many weeks, eating leftover food and sleeping on the sides of roads, that she was feverish.

In her delirium, she thought she saw the ghost of the man who'd given her the gloves. She reached out, her vision swimming, and then she'd collapsed.

Alerio caught the waif instinctively.

It was pouring so heavily that it reminded him of the monsoons in the south. Through it all, he was stunned to realise that he recognised her.

"Callista?" he ventured, hardly daring to believe it.

Her eyes were lovelier than he remembered, burning with the same resolute life-force that had beckoned his spirit. She reached out, touching his cheek and uttered a single word. "Wei?"

All his doubts vanished. It was her—his Callista.

He hugged her shivering form, cradling her protectively against him. She was even thinner than before, light as a feather despite the heavy material of her drenched clothes.

"Tu salva nunc," he murmured to the unconscious girl, pulling out his cloak to shelter her from the rain as he carried her back to their sanctum. _You're safe now._

_Who is that, Alerio?_ Markus asked curiously, staring at the girl in his arms.

_The girl I told you about,_ he replied. _The one I wished to bring with us._

Markus had never been one to pry. He gave her a once-over. _She is wet. Change her clothes or she'll become more ill._ Then he turned over and continued to slumber.

Alerio held her to his chest with one arm and dragged the animal-skin rug closer to the fireplace.

Their meeting seemed preordained.

It was unnerving, how the restless, niggling discomfort that had wormed its way into his chest in the past weeks vanished so suddenly. The same feeling had culminated to an unbearable crescendo tonight—the reason he'd risen in the dead of the night to stretch his legs.

He turned to the girl. Even in one arm, her weight felt like nothing to him. She was so small, so fragile. What was she doing this far from home?

He put a hand to her flushed skin and found her forehead burning hot, the way his father's had been before he'd died at sea.

His stomach tightened.

Clumsily, he worked to remove her sash, struggling with it until he found the knot at the base of her spine. He hung the soaked material over the fireplace before carefully removing her long robe. A thinner gown was inside, so wet that it was plastered to her skin.

His heart leapt as he saw the outline of familiar gloves tucked against her breast. Gently, he peeled the undergarment away. The sensation caused her to stir. She tried to sit up, but he put a calming hand on her shoulder.

"L-Luoyang," she said weakly, determination fierce in her eyes despite the violent shivers wracking her body. A hand found his shoulder, gripping it with unexpected strength. "Wo yao q-qu Luoyang."

"Luoyang?" Alerio had repeated, keeping his voice soft. She was so ill. Was she asking where he was going? He couldn't imagine what she wanted to do in the capital.

"Luoyang," she agreed. The word seemed to soothe her, so he said it again.

"Luoyang."

She wilted in his arms, her eyes becoming unfocused, too exhausted and sick to care about modesty. He freed her from the damp clothes, wrapping his dry tunic around her.

As he cocooned her with more blankets, she clung tightly to him, holding on long after she fell asleep. He brushed the wet strands away from her forehead, shifting her hair so that it no longer pressed against her cold skin. A sigh escaped her lips as he enfolded her body into his warmth. He had never felt more content.

In the days that passed, she grew stronger.

Colour returned to her cheeks, but the humour he remembered did not. If anything, after she'd thanked him she became strangely distant.

"Ni de," she said one day, looking earnest as she pressed the gloves into his hands.

He shook his head. "Ni de," he parroted her, pushing them firmly back.

She tried to return them several more times but he refused to take back the gift.

The attempts, together with her reticence, pained him more than he'd like to admit. They pained him even more than the way his comrades looked at him for taking her in.

As little as she ate, their rations were meagre. It didn't matter that her observant and resourceful nature helped them find water, firewood and food. It didn't matter that she helped them cook and wash. She was a woman, and worse, she was not Roman.

_Bad luck. Savages. Unclean._

He heard them mutter that and more. To make matters worse, she made no attempt to smile or mingle, least of all with him. She remained largely reserved and stiffly inexpressive and no amount of coaxing would break her cold veneer.

Alerio would've acknowledged the dismissal if he weren't certain that she returned his feelings. In her unguarded moments, brilliant joy danced in her eyes when she looked at him. He saw her slight tremble each time their skins brushed. He caught her wistful expressions when she thought he wasn't looking. He felt all these, felt the tension as though it were his own, attuned to her as he'd never been to another.

Alerio was certain that there was another reason she held herself so distant—and he was determined to unearth the cause.

He'd been gathering firewood one day when he'd heard screaming and found Mikaelus stripping his Callista of her robes while the others watched without lifting a finger.

Alerio saw red. He dropped everything in his arms and yanked Mikaelus back so forcefully he stumbled. _What are you doing?_ He was shaking with rage and if it weren't for the onlookers, he'd have struck the man.

_I'm protecting us from a thief that you brought into our midst!_ Mikaelus said, his gaze triumphant as he held out the sea-silk gloves. _You should thank me. She deserves worse for what she took._ Alerio stared from the glinting gloves to Mikaelus's naked legs, his fury so great he could barely speak.

_I gave that to her._

Mikaelus stared in disbelief. _Truly? You mad fool. The girl wants nothing but your gold. Take her as a pleasure slave if you must but—_

Alerio grabbed Mikaelus's collar, slamming him back against the gnarled tree. _How dare you?_ His fist flew and would've broken Mikaelus's jaw but someone grabbed his wrist.

_Enough._

Markus gave Mikaelus a warning look and he fell silent, backing away.

_All of you, leave. I will deal with this._

The moment they were alone, Alerio realised he'd forgotten to protect his Callista's modesty. He hurried to wrap a cloak around her and she bowed her head, clutching it so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Markus looked at him and sighed. _Alerio, you crossed a line._

Alerio looked up at Markus, his stomach sinking. _She's innocent._

_You're obsessed with her_ , Markus said evenly. _She's a stranger and yet you would harm your own brothers for her._

_He tried to—_

_No one could've known that you would give her something so precious._ Markus arched his brows. _She is not your wife._

Alerio clenched his fists. _I love her,_ he wanted to say. _I plan to marry her,_ he wanted to say. But Markus wouldn't understand.

The older man put a hand on his shoulder. _You're like a son to me, Alerio. I trust your judgement, which is why I allow her presence. But you cannot fault Mikaelus for being cautious. And you must never choose her over your brothers. Remember, a mistake on these lands can cost us our heads._

Alerio had no choice but to nod. His Callista hadn't fully recovered and if Markus were to drive her away, she might not survive.

She was still shaking when he took her to the riverbank, waiting at a distance while she washed off the dirt. His cloak was still around her when she returned, her own robes torn beyond repair.

He wanted to take her into his arms but he didn't want to make her more afraid.

"Nocere tibi _?"_ He kept his voice gentle, gesturing at himself and rolling up one of his sleeves.

She looked unsure as she followed suit, slowly tugging up her own sleeve. Dark bruises were forming on her forearm where Mikaelus had grabbed her and Alerio led her to sit down.

Her hands were ice-cold and her lips were white but she did not cry. She remained still and let him smear medicinal salve onto her skin. Apart from the bruises on her forearm and some scrapes on her knees, she was unhurt. It was lucky that he'd returned before Mikaelus could do anything worse.

She was very quiet.

When he finished, she rose to stand before him and then carefully lowered herself to her knees, bowing until her forehead touched the ground.

"Quid agis?" he asked in shock, trying to make her rise. _What was she doing?_ And then he remembered. They'd seen this before in other lands. It was a way of showing gratitude.

Hot shame filled his bones. He had done nothing. It was for his carelessness that she'd suffered.

It wasn't just a way of showing gratitude. It could also show remorse and he owed her an apology. He mirrored her stance and she quickly pulled him up, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

He kept her close to him after that, never leaving her out of his sight, taking her with him even when he hunted.

The others began to whisper behind his back.

If he hadn't been their leader's son, if it hadn't been for Markus, he was certain they'd have attacked him. Perhaps they'd force him to leave. Whatever it was, he knew their restlessness and unhappiness were growing.

An incident in the north settled the matter.

Dusk had descended over the sky, sending vivid bursts of colour streaking across it. They were riding quickly, keen on reaching the next city before darkness when the rumble of louder hooves surrounded them, shaking the earth.

Serican imperial soldiers—trained, heavily-armoured and with war horses—circled them. Sharp eyes scanned the weapons their group wielded, mistaking them for enemy soldiers.

There were no shouts, no warning.

Arrows were docked, weapons mercilessly brandished, aimed particularly at Markus, who was at the head. A bead of blood had begun to form at his throat when she slipped off Alerio's horse.

He lunged forward to stop her, but several spears were thrust before his face, barring any further movement.

Everything happened so fast.

A flash of silver, the whistle of metal cutting through the air, and terror ran down his spine as he expected to see her lifeless body overrun with blood.

But the soldier had paused upon seeing one of his own, and the tip of the blade merely pressed over her heart.

Her beautiful face glowed brilliantly in the setting sun, her expression stoic. She seemed unnaturally calm as she began to speak—incomprehensible, tonal words of the Seres.

She pointed towards their caravan of offerings.

More words were exchanged—sceptical, then curious and finally amenable. Orders were barked, and a thorough search of their caravan was conducted to discover only gifts.

The soldiers released Markus, and someone who appeared to be a general bowed with his hands clasped—fist pressed against palm—and presented them with a map. The procession of soldiers rode away.

He could feel her trembling when he helped her back onto his mare.

After that incident, any misgiving regarding her presence was quelled. Alerio was given permission to trade small gifts for her—gifts she once again refused until he insisted: pins for her hair, a Hanfu to replace her torn one.

Alerio let himself fall deeper for her, vowing to bring her home. He would find a way to marry her. He'd wanted to wait. But one night, he hadn't been able to resist.

It was this one night that would haunt him in the weeks to come.

She slept on a separate rug, near his own. He'd reached out for her that night, resting his hand against her cheek. She'd opened her midnight eyes and hadn't stopped him as he ran his thumb against her bottom lip.

Her skin was smooth, firm, and her bones were delicate. He ran his hands through the silk that was her hair, pulling at the intricate butterfly pins so that it spilt over her shoulders and collarbones. The silver chains tinkled quietly, and he laid them to the side.

"Callista," he murmured. He saw, in the light of the fire, the way her pupils expanded as she watched him as though spellbound.

It made him bold.

Leaning in, he captured her lips, moving tenderly at first, and then more possessively, claiming her as though she were already his. She shivered, gradually returning the intensity his passion with her own, fingers knotting in his hair.

A hand down her spine, a light pull, and the sash fell to the ground with a whisper. He tugged the fabric down her shoulders, kissing down her neck, the swell of her breasts. Her body softened under him, and she arched, the breath escaping her throat in quiet gasps.

He watched her intently, savouring her pleasure. He was loosening her inner garment when all of a sudden, shutters dropped over her previously expressive eyes. She drew away from him with an abruptness that felt like a blow.

He stopped touching her.

Cloths rustled, the sash retied and her form became still once more. A heavy silence settled. The seconds dragged, agonisingly long.

"Me paenitet," he apologised quietly.

"Luoyang," she murmured. Her eyes were sad.

There was no mistaking it this time. She wanted to go to the capital. Did she have a lover there? A betrothed?

His heart clenched. Before he could think or speak, she'd wrapped her arms around him, painfully tight, pulling their bodies close together with what felt like desperation.

It was confusing.

She seemed to have feelings for him, and yet she rejected his advances. He didn't understand.

But then she was running her fingers reverently through his hair, over his face, down his back—more affection than she'd ever shown him before—and he lost himself in her touches, her kisses.

He should've known it was her way of saying goodbye.

When he woke the next morning, he found the Hanfu he'd traded for her neatly folded on her rug, together with all the hairpins he'd given her. Even the gloves.

He sat up, ramrod straight.

He'd run for what felt like forever, agitatedly searching for her, but in every corner, every place he looked, she was missing. When he returned to the camp, hours later, panic still saturated his body.

_She's gone!_

Markus whipped around, his eyes narrowed. _Check the caravan!_ He ordered. _Did she steal anything?_

_No_ , Alerio said numbly. _Nothing. She took nothing._ He stared at the gloves in his hands.

Markus turned to the caravan driver.

_Nothing is missing, sir._

Confusion flitted over Markus's expression. Then it turned into sympathy. He put a hand on Alerio's shoulder. _It was not meant to be,_ he only said.


	4. Earth 土

Li Rong should've bid him a proper goodbye, but he wouldn't have let her go. Even if she could write, he had no way of fathoming her language. She hardened the ache in her heart as the cart rolled over hard, uneven gravel, finally carrying her to the capital.

Encountering the soldiers had been a stroke of luck, terrifying as it had been. They'd told her how to get to Luoyang, and she'd seized the first opportunity to do so. It was a good thing she left when she did because she didn't know how much longer her restraint would've held out.

It had taken everything she had to remain stone-cold towards him.

He as a good man, and she hadn't wanted to hurt him. Unwisely, she'd fallen in love with him. But she had to care for her ageing mother who'd toiled to feed her for sixteen years. She couldn't abandon her family to cavort with a man she barely knew.

Li Rong swallowed, doing her best to ignore the throbbing hollowness in her chest as she watched dawn breaking over the horizon, splashing vibrant colours across the skies, so at odds with the bleak emptiness she was feeling.

Money. She needed to send money back to her mother.

In hindsight, she saw how naïve her plans had been. She'd been deceived by the opulence—the fresh food, the spacious rooms, the lavish clothing—and she'd been wholly unprepared for what awaited her.

Life in the palace was brutal.

She'd been tasked with bringing tea to the emperor, and she'd bowed as she presented the tray to him. He'd caught her face in his hand, his eyes lighting up with fascination.

_Why, how beautiful you are!_ Emperor Liu Zhi told her, mesmerised by her face. _How is it that I've never seen you before?_

She'd turned red, flustered, dreading that he would visit her chambers after the long weeks of being invisible among four thousand others.

Her fears had been short-sighted.

Empress Dou had been seated beside the emperor when he'd praised her. Li Rong hadn't seen the flash of resentment in her eyes. She'd invited Li Rong to her private chambers, her manner sweet and friendly as she'd offered tea.

Li Rong had vomited for days afterwards, her stomach cramping as she broke into a fever and stained her bedding with sweat and blood. She hadn't connected her sickness to the tea until Consort Tian Sheng had pulled her aside, telling her never to drink anything Empress Dou offered.

_I was pregnant once_ — _a son_ , Consort Tian Sheng told her. _She presented tea to me, and I lost the child_.

The peaceful illusion was shattered. Li Rong became more aware than ever of the ranks within the palace—the Empress at the top, followed by the various consorts, and lastly, the simple concubines—which came with power, privileges and protection.

Li Rong lived in fear, which intensified when she received word from her ailing mother. Her position in the palace was too low for her to send much money home. To increase her stature, she needed the emperor's favour, which came at the price of the empress's wrath. She was terrified of Empress Dou and the other consorts, she was terrified of intimacy with the emperor, and she worried endlessly for her mother's illness.

She became withdrawn and tearful, lying awake most nights burdened with these thoughts. Home felt like a world away.

* * *

The capital was surrounded by high mountains and the palace was magnificent, lavishly sculpted, painted and ornamented with decadent excess. But what struck Alerio the most was the amount of concubines the emperor possessed.

Four thousand!

Alerio could hardly believe it. Concubines existed in Rome, but only when the woman's status was considered unequal to the man she wished to marry. The possession of a concubine in addition to a wife was forbidden in their strictly monogamous society.

Along their journey, he'd come to see and accept men who had two, three and even four women, but _four thousand!_ His head swam. It was debauchery.

He'd been dumbfounded when Markus first told him. How did one have relations with four thousand women?

_It is their way,_ Markus simply said, shrugging indifferently. _We are here only to trade and forge an alliance._

Alerio couldn't find it in himself to feel aghast for long. Although he hid it well, he was still consumed by the pain of his Callista's disappearance. His heart throbbed constantly at her absence, and he'd relived that night over and over again, berating himself for each minuscule mistake he might've done to drive her away.

The wound was still fresh when they'd entered the majestic gates of the palace, led by the imperial guards.

Then he'd glimpsed her in the gardens.

Alerio could hardly believe his eyes. The girl who haunted his dreams was here. The girl for whom he'd promised to return. The girl who'd stolen his heart.

He looked again. Her face was pinched and pale, her hair adorned with ornate jewels, but there was no mistaking it. After their long months together, he would recognise her anywhere. It was her!

_Don't stare at the concubines, it will get you killed,_ Markus muttered.

Alerio lowered his eyes quickly. He already knew that, but he hadn't been able to help himself. She was here! She was in Luoyang! In the palace!

His mind spun, and he could barely concentrate as they'd knelt before the emperor and presented their gifts.

He'd held her flush to him before. He'd held her breathless in his arms, tasted the softness of her skin. Now he understood why she'd never wanted to consummate their union. She'd been meant for the emperor.

The ache grew in his chest, unbearable.

Four thousand women. Did the emperor even notice her? Did he notice the gentleness in her eyes, the way her lashes lowered whenever she was bashful, the slight turn of her lips as she spoke?

He'd promised to come back for her, but how could he now?

Alerio never felt such a fierce ache before. He'd fallen for her, and he'd fallen hard.

The love made him blind.

_Four thousand others_ , he kept repeating to himself. Surely no one would miss one among so many.

Now that he saw her, he couldn't lose her again.

He wouldn't approach her while Markus and everyone else was still here. He could endanger himself, but not the rest of the company.

When they'd finished their dealings, Alerio spoke to Markus.

_Go on ahead,_ he said. _I still wish to see the city. I will meet you at the Rinan harbour in a few days._

Markus raised his eyebrows. _The journey is a dangerous one to take alone. If you wish to see the city, we will wait._

Alerio shook his head. _I will be fine._

_It's not the city you wish to see, is it?_ Markus guessed.

Alerio didn't reply for a long time.

_No_ , he admitted finally.

Markus folded his arms. _The concubines belong to the emperor. You must accept that. You cannot have her._

_He has four thousand others!_

_It matters not_ , Markus said, his voice maddeningly patient. _It is their way._

_It is barbaric!_ Alerio shot back.

_They find some of our ways barbaric as well._

When Alerio didn't answer, Markus's voice turned harsh.

_Alerio. You will not stay for her, you will not speak to her, you will not even look at her. If you continue what you are doing, I will be forced to renounce you as a deserter._

Alerio's eyes flew to Markus in shock, but the older man's gaze remained steady. _You must understand that I cannot let you damage our relation with Serica or threaten the safety of the others. This is the last we will speak of it._

Alerio's chest was heavy as they departed.

Markus put a hand on his shoulder. _If you bring her back to Rome, she will be nothing more than a slave,_ he said. _Let the girl be. Fate does not bless your union._

He was right, but Alerio's heart refused to let her go. As they neared Luoyang's border, he turned his horse around, separating from the rest. He heard his comrades yelling for him, but ignored them.

He would stay. He would bring her beyond Serica, before Rome, and dwell elsewhere with her.

_Let him go,_ he heard Markus order, and the pursuing hooves ceased. As he looked back at their silhouettes, loneliness gnawed in his gut, overshadowed by his determination.

* * *

Li Rong hadn't known how Alerio managed to sneak a message to the high eunuch, or why the high eunuch let her meet with him when she'd asked.

She should've known that Empress Dou had been behind it. But despite her growing awareness of the dangers within the palace, she'd grown up as a simple girl. She had no experience with the royal intricacies—no true idea of how much hatred the empress had come to harbour or how far her schemes could go.

Naïvely, she'd accepted the eunuch's words, and under his instructions, she'd left the palace in the dead of the night with a shawl wrapped around her hair.

Alerio was waiting for her under one of many flowering trees of plum blossoms. The moon was full that night, and the air was infused by the flowers' sweet perfume.

Despite the cold, seeing him warmed her heart. The happiness that surged was overwhelming. It had been such a long time since she'd seen a familiar face, a face she could trust.

He opened his arms, and she ran to him. They embraced, and he spun her around in a joyful circle.

"Callista. Li Rrrong," he botched her name as usual, and she laughed quietly.

For a long time, they only held each other, relishing in the comfort, the sense of completion offered by the reunion.

Then he kissed her. This time, she'd kissed him back, uninhibited as she'd never been before.

Alerio held her delicate face between his hands, smiling as his heart soared.

She'd always been beautiful, and now, dressed in the finery offered by the palace, it was as though she'd stepped out of a Serican lore—a princess brought forth to life. It almost hurt to look at her.

"Mecum veni," he bade her to come with him. "Exspecta," he said softly, leading her to his horse, to his packed bags.

It was still raining petals—pale pink, crimsons and whites.

She understood his message, but she couldn't leave. She had to care for her mother. And the imperial guards would notice her departure. They would be captured, and he would be put to death.

Li Rong shook her head.

"Ni he wo de ma ma," she said and drew a line over her throat.

His eyes lit up with understanding. 'Ma' was universal. "Mater? Ma?" he repeated.

She nodded.

His heart sank. They would seize her mother, should she leave. And his horse could not bear the weight of three. Markus had been right after all—they weren't meant to be.

He wanted nothing but to take her and leave, but he'd never rob her of her will like that. Crushed, he resigned himself to their farewell, embracing her for the last time.

When they broke apart, she waved with a small smile. He couldn't bring himself to do the same. He only stood numbly, watching her make her way back to the palace. She waited for several long minutes, watching him in the darkness, before finally disappearing into the grand gates.

Smoke unfurled from the quaint, curved edges of the roof. Alerio mounted his horse, his heart hurting as once again, he reached the outskirts of the city.

A thought suddenly struck him.

It shouldn't have been so easy for him to gain access to a royal concubine. In his haste, he hadn't given a thought to it, but now a horrible idea occurred to him.

The sky began to weep snow tears, but the fragrance continued to bloom around him, sweet and subtle, reminding him of his Callista's scent. It was the bitter cold that brought forth their aroma, and Alerio suddenly realised why the flowers signified endurance to the Seres.

He turned and galloped back the way he came.

* * *

Empress Dou had bribed the eunuchs to spy on her. Her every step had been under observation. Perhaps if she'd known, she wouldn't have been in this position—stripped of her royal garments and placed in chains upon her return.

She should've stayed with him when she had the chance.

But she hadn't known. She hadn't known so many things. She'd only wanted to be a filial daughter and protect her mother, the way she'd been raised to do. And now she was going to be made an example of to the other concubines.

Words were read out, meaningless words listing crimes she'd committed—some true, most not.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

She exhaled, watching the mist form from the shallow breaths she could manage in the tight bindings. She was tired, and everything ached. Death would be welcome mercy.

As the blade rose, she thought about the one good decision she'd made. She'd convinced him to leave. He was safe. He didn't have to see her like this. In that one thought, she found peace.

* * *

It took him another half a day to ride back. Snow fell in heaps, enshrouding the curved roofs in pure white and tipping the tops of the mountains surrounding the city. His mare whinnied forlornly, its limbs sinking in the thick snow with every step.

A crowd had gathered despite the blizzard, and he felt his insides turn to ice when he saw who was kneeling at its centre.

_No!_

For a moment, he could only stare, stunned by the sight. He knew how cruel and petty courtly schemes could be—his family had been enmeshed in several. He had feared, but he'd not foreseen the gravity of her situation.

His heart pounded wildly.

The scene unfolded before him like a nightmare—his beloved pale-lipped and seemingly resigned to her fate, the grim crowd and the thickset man whose wide knife gleamed at his hip.

He couldn't let it happen.

As the executioner lifted his blade, a reckless idea occurred to him—born of desperation and heartbreak.

He knew he couldn't save her, not with the imperial guards on watch.

But he couldn't stand by and do nothing. He _couldn't._

He raised his bow, fighting to keep his trembling hands steady. The string twanged, sharp and shrill to his heightened senses, the arrow cutting through the air.

His aim was true.

The descending blade dropped to the ground like overripe fruit. A gurgling sound and it was the executioner who dropped dead. The crowd watched in shock and incredulity, and the elite guards turned, their sharp eyes trained on the intruder— _him._

Alerio was in motion before anyone could think. He urged his horse forward, knocking people aside and leaping over the platform, the hooves punching holes in the wood, fear lending him strength as he scooped her up and planted her in front of him.

He lashed his horse again, and it galloped faster, its mouth frothing at the bit.

Shouts came from behind them. Arrows whistled, and he felt one pierce into his back and another into his shoulder. In the numb cold and wild panic, he barely felt the pain, continuing to lash his horse madly forward.

He could hear the thundering hooves and the jangle of metal as the imperial guards chased them through the trees, past the towering mountains that imprisoned them from both sides. No place to hide. No respite. The soldiers' horses were made for war, and faster. They were catching up. They fired more arrows, some of which whistled past his cheek, grazing his skin.

Blood trickled down his back and he gripped the reigns tighter as his wounds began to burn.

He could hear them gaining more and more ground. Someone shouted just a few feet behind him. Alerio's blood roared in his ears. He was going to die. She was going to die. It was the end of them. It was-

The ground began to tremble.

As though by the will of the heavens, the heavy torrent of snow that had gathered over the last few days surged down the mountains, devastating and swift, burying the soldiers close enough to reach them and blocking the path of ones further away. The noise of hooves was drowned by the loud groaning as snow continued to collapse, shaking the very earth itself. Large trees cracked under the heavy mass, rocks slid, but the two of them miraculously escaped the avalanche unharmed.

Relief flooded through him, so great that the world seemed to grow bigger and brighter. But he didn't stop.

They rode for a long, long time over the rough terrain.

His shirt was soaked with blood by the time he dared to stop. Without a word, he cut loose Li Rong's bindings.

It was the first time he saw her cry. Tears streaked down her face, but she made no sound. Her arms and fingers were turning violet, stiff and trembling, and still, she reached for the arrows at his back. He stopped her, capturing her cold palms between his sweaty ones. They'd dressed her in rags in the middle of winter.

He massaged gently, coaxing the blood to return. As soon as her fingers regained some mobility, she moved behind him, pulling the arrows out with surprising strength. And then she tore what little rags she wore, using them to staunch the bleeding.

Li Rong's heart bled each time he hissed with pain, taking great care to bind his wounds properly. She could hardly believe that he'd come back for her. She would've never blamed him even if he'd abandoned her. The emperor was not lenient with his punishments, and audacity like that would've earned him a slow, painful death.

He must've known, but still, he'd come.

His brashness stunned her. He'd been ready to die with her. If it hadn't been for the interference of fate, he would've died an agonising death.

She touched his cheek, her breath misting between them, wishing she could ask him _why_.

He leaned in, kissing her tenderly, his hands moving down to soothe her sore knees as he held her gaze with his piercing green ones. Sea-green, grass-green, brilliant. But she was looking beyond their colour, beyond the incomprehensibility of his mannerisms, of his tongue, and into his soul, into the universality of what he'd done for her—of what she'd done for him.

Love transcended.

The petals continued to fall.

His lips formed words, and she understood.

_I love you._


	5. Metal 金

**Epilogue**

Sunlight sprinkled through the cover of leaves, sending a kaleidoscope of greens and golds down on a slight figure poised at the edge of a branch with an arrow docked and the bow drawn tight.

_You must never be seen._

And there was little to see with the hood, which revealed only glimpses: A sheen of glimmering sweat. Bronze brows drawn together in concentration. Sturdy arms and loose robes. A steadying breath was drawn as the bow was pulled tighter, _tighter_ , the wood creaking under the strain, and still, the figure waited.

The deer finally stepped closer.

Without a second's hesitation, the arrow was released. It whistled, slicing through the air—

Except a second whistle followed the first.

The deer dropped dead with _two_ arrows protruding from its head and the youth started, head whipping up, the hood falling away…

"Alerio?"

Markus stared at the young man. He was slight, like Alerio, with the same features and wild bronze hair, except his eyes weren't Alerio's eyes. Markus had seen the same deep brown and determination on another face, delicate and feminine, a long time ago.

He drew a sharp breath. "Quisnam es?" _Who are you?_

Serican words fell like water from the boy's lips, fluid and fast like it belonged in his blood. And the more Markus looked at him, the more he realised how _unlike_ Alerio he was. The softness of the jaw, the rounder cheeks, the angled corners of his eyes. The boy was not Roman.

 _I don't understand you_ , Markus said.

The boy's eyes widened and his words changed, his tongue forming Latin words as easily as they did Serican ones. _How do you know my father's name?_

Markus blinked. The boy was and wasn't Roman. _Alerio is your father?_ He took a step closer. _He was a son to me_. _Can you take me to him?_

The boy drew back, skittish. _My father's dead._

Markus hadn't realised he'd begun hoping until a sharp ache struck his pounding heart. He clutched his chest and caught sight of his gnarled fingers, feeling much too old. Alerio was dead. Alerio was _dead_. Markus hadn't known that he was sending the boy to his death when he'd let him go. A part of him had believed Alerio would be back after regaining his senses. They'd set camp at the harbour, waiting, _waiting_ …. but they couldn't wait forever. The ship had set sail without Alerio.

Markus had spent the journey in prayer. _Cato, forgive me. I couldn't protect your boy._

Now, with the young man's curious, penetrating gaze on him, he could see Cato's brilliance reflected in the boy. Alerio's son. Cato's grandson. If only they were here to see it. Heart heavy as a stone, he asked, _Can you take me to where your father's buried?_

 _We don't bury our dead,_ the boy said, but he came closer. _I can show you where I keep the ashes._

Markus nodded. _And your mother?_

The boy shot him an odd look. _You know my mother?_

 _I don't know her name,_ Markus said. _But I know your father loved her._ Madly, Markus wanted to say. Alerio had been utterly mad. He'd laid down his life for a woman he could not have. But looking at the boy, it seemed that Markus hadn't been entirely right. Alerio had lived long enough to raise the boy, long enough to share his archery and his Latin. Markus sighed. _Had it been worth it, Alerio?_

Was the girl still alive? She had to be, for their son to be so healthy and well-taken care of. The boy seemed in his early adolescent years, only slightly younger than Alerio had been when Markus had lost him. He bent over the deer to carry it, and Markus quickly went to help. _Where do you live?_

 _Up there._ He nudged his chin up towards the vast mountain covered with a dense canopy of trees. _We have to climb a bit._

Markus's knees protested but he only nodded.

As though reading his mind, the boy batted Markus's hands away and heaved the deer up over his shoulders, rising easily to his feet. _I got this, old man._ A twinkle lit up his warm brown eyes and Markus felt himself softening, already fond of the boy.

_How long do we have to walk?_

_Long,_ came the reply.

The boy wasn't exaggerating. They trekked up the mountain at a pace that made conversation impossible for Markus. The air grew thinner and thinner and Markus could barely stop his pants. Still, the boy continued, limber and undeterred, pausing only to wait for him to catch up. Markus's legs were trembling by the time a simple wooden hut came into view.

Little golden bells hung from the door, tinkling in the wind. The same door opened and slammed as two small girls chased after each other, shrieking and giggling, a peculiar blend of Serican and Latin flowing from their lips. Markus was doubled over, winded, but he couldn't help staring. Alerio had more children? But they were so young. How recently had he passed?

Markus looked back at the boy. His cheeks were pink with exertion and he gave Markus a grin before raising his voice. _Father, I have a surprise for you!_

Markus was flabbergasted. _You said he was dead!_

 _My father's a wanted man_ , the boy said, eyes sparkling. _I had to make sure._

 _Yes?_ The bells tinkled once more as the door opened and Alerio emerged from the house, another tiny child perched on his shoulders. _What is it?_ His bronze hair was streaked with grey and there were new lines on his face but he was alive _._ He swivelled around to look at his son and his jaw dropped. _Markus?_

* * *

_You have a fine boy,_ Markus managed to say.

The boy smirked and Alerio gave him an appraising look. _She's a girl._

Markus did a double-take. _What?_

 _I was good, wasn't I, old man?_ She said, grinning. _Father, I told you no one could tell._

Alerio shook his head and sent her outside to fetch some water. Grumbling about being always the one to do chores, she slipped off her stool and left.

Markus gazed at the blood and mud plastered on her garments, frowning. _How can you dress her like this? It isn't right._

Alerio sighed. _She looks too much like me,_ he said. _It's difficult for her, having to hide all the time. There's nothing for her to do._

The child around his shoulders kicked, restless, and Alerio plucked her and put her onto his lap, where she quieted instantly, yawning and curling to sleep in his arms. Outside, squeals and peals of laughter echoed and Markus glanced at the window, bemused. _How many children do you have?_

 _Five daughters,_ Alerio's tone was long-suffering but his eyes radiated contentment.

 _And your…_ Markus had no idea what to call her. Wife? Concubine? She was neither, for Alerio couldn't have married her here. _The mother of your children?_

_Li Rong will be back soon._

Incredible. Markus leaned back in his chair. They were both alive, still together, with children. _How did you do it?_ He marvelled.

 _I didn't, she did_ , Alerio said. His back was to the door and it tinkled as it opened. The girl from Markus's memory stepped inside, her son—no _, daughter_ , Markus reminded himself—close behind her.

Her exquisite beauty sucked all air from the room. With porcelain skin and startling midnight eyes, she seemed not to have aged a day save for the snowy threads that peaked on the silk of her hair. She tilted her head at Alerio's words, delicate brows pulling together, and said in Latin, _Nonsense._

Markus gave a startled laugh.

Alerio rested a hand on her arm, saying something to her in halting Serican, and she sat down beside him, their shoulders brushing. His gaze was adoring, and hers was equally soft.

Love. Love so powerful and preternatural, it seemed written by the gods themselves.

 _How did you learn?_ Markus asked in wonder. __  
  
_The children_ , Alerio said simply.

 _You mean me,_ their daughter said, sounding mildly indignant.

 _Yes, my dear, you,_ Alerio said, as Li Rong smiled and pressed a kiss to her daughter's sweaty forehead, murmuring something Markus could not understand.

 _You said you had five children?_ Markus looked around. He'd thought the fifth was with her mother, but there was no fifth in sight.

 _Our eldest ist married,_ Alerio said. He ruffled his daughter's hair. _She's our second oldest._

Married. The word was so commonplace that Markus could hardly believe it. How had they managed? _Pray, do tell me what happened._

The tale slowly unravelled, Li Rong speaking slowly enough for Alerio to understand and their daughter to translate.

Markus felt his eyes grow wider and wider.

The fragile-looking woman had dragged Alerio, delirious, onto a horse to hide out in the very same mountains they now lived in. She'd tended to his wounds and they'd survived for weeks on nut, berries and the occasional small animal that she'd caught, skinned and roasted. By a miraculous stroke of luck, his fever had broken and he'd slowly begun to recover. The soldiers eventually stopped searching for them, sure they were dead.

Then she'd made a drastic decision.

She'd trekked down to the nearest town and knelt before a teahouse for two days in the snow until they'd conceded and allowed her to play.

Markus noticed then that her robes were intricately designed, tiny flowers and leaves decorating the seams, the fabric gleaming despite its muted colours.

 _She plays very well,_ Alerio said, nodding at the stringed instrument in a shadowed corner of their home. _Guzheng. It's a Serican zither._

Li Rong murmured something and their daughter translated. _My mother says she learned a lot watching the ladies in the palace. Dancing, too._ _The teahouse took her in immediately._ Their daughter's cheeks dimpled. _Mother's really, really good. I snuck in to listen a few times. Everyone raves about her._

 _Don't do again,_ Li Rong said in accented Latin, pressing her lips together. _Dangerous for you._

The girl fought not to roll her eyes. _Yes, Mother._

Markus straightened. _Come home, Alerio_ , he said. _Take your family. You can live freely in Rome._

Alerio only shook his head. _I can. But my family cannot. She cannot._ He rested his hand on Li Rong's, his gaze straying to her waist, wrapped and hidden by the silken sash. _She's with child_ , he said quietly. _And they're so young._ He gazed at the small girls playing outside. _We can't._

Markus had expected the answer, but still, he was disappointed.

 _Won't you at least let me take her home?_ He gazed at their secondborn, the one who looked so much like her father.

 _She's a girl, Markus_ , Alerio said, his eyes troubled.

 _I will keep her secret_ , Markus said. _She will do much better in Rome. She won't have to hide._

 _I want to go,_ the girl said immediately. _I'm strong and I can shoot, Father. I can write. And I can speak as well as they do._

Alerio was clearly unwilling, afraid that his daughter would be spurned. And Markus understood. The girl could lose everything. Except Alerio still had family who very much loved him.

 _Your brother is alive,_ Markus said. _He'll take her as his own. Your sister could do it too. Write them a letter, Alerio. I will deliver it if it's the last thing I do._

Alerio hesitated.

It was Li Rong who rose, her arms coming around her daughter. Her eyes were tender but also reminiscent of great hardship. She whispered something to her daughter.

 _Mother says I should go,_ their daughter said.

 _Your mother cannot come with us,_ Alerio said. _Your sisters…_

 _Of course not. I will go alone_ , she said.

 _How will I arrange a marriage for you across an ocean?_ Alerio looked pained.

 _I don't ever want to get married,_ their daughter said defiantly.

Alerio stared but before he could open his mouth, Markus cut in. _I will care for her,_ he said. _She will make a fine emissary._

 _She is a girl, Markus_. Alerio was stricken. _I taught her to shoot and to write but she is a_ girl _. I don't want her in danger._

 _They need not ever know,_ Markus said. _Not until we reach Roman shore. In Rome, she can live freely. She's so young, there's plenty of time for her to think and choose. Here, she can only hide._

Alerio was silent for the longest moment.

 _I will keep her safe,_ Markus said. _And treat her as my own._

 _Please?_ Their daughter begged.

Markus was struck by the way Li Rong stood by, silent and untroubled. How she could be calm in such a crucial moment… as though she already knew his answer. Markus's gaze strayed back to Alerio, who finally looked up at his daughter. _You'll need a Latin name._

She practically vibrated with excitement.

 _We'll find one together_ , Markus said.

The goodbyes were brief. There were no tears. Alerio and Li Rong's eyes shone with resolute belief, the same one that had brought them—and kept them—together.

Alerio took Li Rong into his arms as they watched their daughter leave, plum blossom petals floating down like pale pink raindrops. The tinkling bells and children's laughter was a comforting, familiar melody.


	6. Notes and Translations

**_Latin translations_ **

_Currite!: Run!_

_Vadete celerius!: Go faster!_

_Aquam indigemus: We need water_

_Me excusa, domina...: Excuse me, miss..._

_Aqua: Water_

_Ubi?: Where?_

_Non: No_

_Faex: Shit_

_Mehercle!: By Hercules!_

_Gracias tibi ago: Thank you_

_Mulsum: wine with honey, a popular drink_

_Amor a primo conspectu:_ _love at first sight_

_Fortuna: goddess of fate_

_Seres: people of the land of silk_

_Salve: Good morning/evening/welcome (a general greeting)_

_Pulchra es: You're beautiful_

_Ignosce mihi: Forgive me_

_Ita: Yes_

_Me exspecta, quaeso: Please wait for me_

_Omnium rerum principia parva sunt: The beginnings of all things are small_

_Pulchra es: You’re beautiful_

_Ignosce mihi: Forgive me_

_Ita: Yes_

_Me exspecta, quaeso: Please wait for me_

_Tu salva nunc: You’re safe now_

_Nocere tibi?: Are you hurt?_

_Quid agis?: What are you doing?_

_Me paenitet: I’m sorry (literal: I regret it)_

_Mecum veni: Come with me_

_Exspecta: Please_

_Mater: Mother_

**_Chinese translations_ **

_Na me mei!（那么美！）: How beautiful!_

_Ni yao shen me a? （你要什么啊？）: What do you need?_

_Bie da le!（_ _别打了！）: Stop fighting! (literal: Stop hitting!)_

_Shui （水）: Water_

_Hanfu（_ _汉_ _服）: traditional dress in ancient China_

 _Ni bu xiang chi ya?（你不想吃呀？）: Don’t you want to eat?_ _(confrontational tone)_

 _Ye xu wo ke yi...（也_ _许我可以。。。）: Maybe I can..._

_Chi（吃）: Eat_

_Xie xie（_ _谢谢）: Thank you_

 _Bu yong xie（不用_ _谢）: You’re welcome (literal: No need to thank)_

_Ni de（你的）: Yours_

_Shen me?（什么？）: Pardon? (literal: what?)_

_Hao（好）: Good_

_Mei li（美_ _丽）: Beautiful_

_Kuai zi（筷子）: Chopsticks_

_Shi de_ _(是的)：yes_

_Guzheng (古箏): Chinese string instrument, similar to a zither_

_Sai weng shi ma (塞翁失馬): proverb meaning blessing in disguise (or the other way around)_

_Huangjiu (_ _黄酒): an alcoholic beverage made from rice and millet_

 _Chi de ku zhong ku, fang wei ren shang ren（吃得苦中苦，方_ _为人上人）: Only by withstanding the hardest of hardships can you rise to become someone of value (literal: if you can eat the bitterest of the bitter, then you can become the man above men)_

_Wo yao qu Luoyang（我要去洛阳）: I want to go to Luoyang_

_Ni he wo de ma ma（你和我的_ _妈吗）：you and my mother_

**_Historical notes_ **

" _She puts the flowers to shame. She entices the birds to fall, and the fish to sink – so exquisite is she." – This may sound rather funny when translated into English but I adapted it from two Chinese idioms based on_ _real historical beauties. (_ _贵妃羞花_ _Guifei shames the flowers,_ 西施沉鱼 _Xi Shi sinks the fish)_

' _The Son of Heaven' with reference to the emperor – the Chinese used to refer to their emperor as a deity or otherwise chosen by the higher powers._

_Luoyang was one of China's old capitals._

_Although Li Rong is portrayed here as speaking Mandarin (=Beijing dialect, now spoken by almost everyone in China on top of their own local dialects), a girl in her time most likely did not speak Mandarin but a different Chinese dialect._ _Speakers of different Chinese dialects usually cannot understand each othe_ _r._

_Mandarin has five tones. Here, Li Rong tries to teach Alerio how to pronounce the words by gesturing the tones. However, the awareness of tones was first recorded around 500 A.D. so it's debatable if someone in 166 A.D. would know about it._


End file.
